Melancholy Nox
by Sei no Baka
Summary: GrimmIchi: It's never love at first sight. It takes more than one look.
1. Babylon

**Melancholy Nox****: Babylon**

-xv-

Babylon is a Motel located in Vicius. An average Motel, to say the least, simply a place to house those that had the money. Not that it was needed though, as the price had become less than a 'Happy Meal' from McDonalds. In other words, Babylon is located in one of the worst parts of the affectionately named Vicius. Known as the slums – a rubbish bin for Karakura Town. To be frank, a garbage dump filled with the most feral remnants available to the human world. Due to this, Babylon houses a variety of different residents with an equal variety of backgrounds. However, due to the Motel's owner, to gain housing the residents do not need to reveal their background story, and merely need to have a slight amount of money to gain a 'home' of sorts.

-xv-

**Warnings:**** Xemnas**, I mean: **mansex**,**boylove**,**slash**, whatever you call it.

**Rating:**** M**, though, there's nothing that is too vulgar in this chapter. M: just in case.

**Author's Notes:**This is the first multi-chaptered fic that I'm attempting to write. It will contain **Grimmjow/Ichigo**,**Renji/Byakuya** and other pairings that you suggest. There probably will be some het, but **mainly boylove**, so if you don't like the idea of that, then don't read it. I have a rough plan of this story, but, most of the time, I will be improvising, and whatnot. So, sorry if it may be all over the place. Sorry for any mistakes! Point them out if they are majormajormajor! And sorry for ooc-ness. **AU!**

-xv-

It was _not_ love at first sight. It was a state of obsession.

When in a condition of fixation, the symptoms to show said pure fixation are as follows: Lick your lips, pretending that the taste of another is still lingering upon your lips. Also, stare at the other's crotch region merely to judge how you could pair up and decide then and there if you still want to pursue your 'prey'. Then, depending on your decision, start to grin maniacally with eyes to match; a plan to gain said obsession already set within your mind. These were three main symptoms that 'prey' should look out for when set under the gaze of perverted men or women. Specifically, a teal haired, rarely properly dressed, half-mask wearing man by the name of Grimmjow. People set under this person's gaze, and judged accordingly, must watch out for these symptoms in case of major sexual assault that may cause trauma in the near future. If you are too late in tracing said symptoms, it is possible that you _have_ become prey and must be cautious when walking in hallways alone, or even when in company of associates. Regardless of anything, if a perverted man, or, Grimmjow, has set you as their next target, run for the nearest plastic surgeon and ask for them to make you hideous. Do not, I repeat, _do not_, return unless finally, nobody looks at you in suggestive ways and you have become extremely unattractive, even to a donkey.

Unfortunately, one particular red head had been placed so conveniently under said perverse gaze and the three symptoms came to pass rather swiftly. First, a lick to his own lips. Then, a sudden movement to look at the red head's crotch. Lastly, a maniacal grin. It was much too late for the red head to escape now. Unbeknownst to the teen, he had been set as a new target for Grimmjow. And, you should sympathize with him, as, much torture and horrid obsession may amount to his not-so-graceful downfall.

Red hair, not quite, more orange than anything else, covering the top of the boy's head, reaching to his neck. A deep scowl seemingly permanently etched into the boy's face. And chocolate brown orbs that showed nothing-less of naivety. A perfect catch, some may say. Grimmjow, agreed.

An ever frowning face, one that probably frightened off new comers, though, this did not discourage Grimmjow in the slightest. His grin only grew significantly wider and he turned attempted to divert his eyes from the sight of the red head talking to another man of tribal tattoos, a man that did not spark any interest within him. The attempt to bring his attention to another thing came to be futile. Instead, his gaze drifted to the boy's lips. Moving, talking. And he wanted to merely shove the boy against the couch and have his way with him. But in public places, and without consent, that would have to be rape. Rationally, Grimmjow wanted him, but, did not want to be charged for more than he already was.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

Teal eyes landed on a cheery girl when he heard the light, feminine voice enter his thoughts. He'd met her before. She helped him bring his very little luggage into his room. Her name had slipped from his mind completely. However, she saved him from further embarrassment by answering his unsaid question. He'd have to thank her for that, later.

"Hinamori. How could you forget my name?" She laughed, and patted him on the back, "but don't worry, we've only met once since you moved here." They both looked in the direction of the red head, who, in Grimmjow's mind, had been given the newfound name. "His name is Kurosaki Ichigo, the son of the owner of this motel. The other, is Abarai Renji. You didn't really need to know Renji's name, did you? I mean, you _have_ been staring at Ichigo for a very long time now." A cheery giggle emitted from her lips, "Ichigo is nice to look at, but you've been looking for far too long. You look so suspicious with that smile of yours. You're starting to look like a perverted leech." Hinamori poked his mask in good teasing nature. He didn't know her. They were only acquaintances, but he did know that she was much too cheery for her own good. Grimmjow wanted to slap some sense into her.

They lived in a town full of, who knows exactly what. Vicius, like the word vicious. Actually, pretty much the same, only one letter dropped out. Whoever named the area named it quite appropriately. Whoever had the bad luck to have to step into these areas would have to be able to fend for themselves. They should be aware of the dangers lurking on the streets, and be able to know that if you can't fend for yourself, then you would be royally screwed.

He only scowled.

She just had to point out the obvious. Though, he could not blame her, she didn't know him. Yes, Grimmjow did equal a perverted leeching bastard. Hinamori did not need to point it out what he already knew. At least she had the decency not to ask what the deal with his mask was. He'd heard enough of that the first second he came into this Motel.

He simply shrugged in return, a small grunt in response, and left her to softly giggle and tell whatever other person she pleased not to go near him or else they'd surely be raped. All in good nature of course, but when Grimmjow turned to look back, he saw Hinamori's white haired companion looking paler than usual, and staring at him in slight dismay. Then, he turned back to his own distraction of looking at a bleak wall and had to cringe when he heard the much-too-bubbly sound of Hinamori screaming out, "WHITEY-CHAN!"

Once he was out of eye sight, he waited. He waited for the most opportune moment to find that Kurosaki boy so that he could pin him to the nearest wall, or whatever. It should be highly evident now, that Grimmjow had not been laid in the last six months. Six months equivalent to one hundred and eighty two days of unwanted abstinence. Spare him from embarrassment, and please, do not laugh at his misfortune.

-xv-

"Oy, Ichigo."

"What, Renji?" His voice sounds tired, and he yawns, which only proves this. Nights in Vicius included the constant sound of emergency sirens echoing throughout the area. It rings throughout the area enough so that people living in Vicius have become so accustomed to it, that it has become a lullaby. Sometimes, when Ichigo does not hear this siren, he cannot sleep. Odd, to say the least. When the siren does not sound, there are no troubles, and yet, people gain the inability to sleep. And yet, when problems have arisen, that is the only time when people can sleep. Maybe, it is with the thought that it is not them that are being injured, it is another. They are safe for one more night, there are no surprises. But when it is silent in Vicius, people fear that they will be the next victims. The mentality of those who fear being hurt.

"You're tired, go to bed." To add good measure, Renji pats his back, in a demeaning manner and pushes him towards the lobby of the Motel, "I've got a show to put on, any way. I'll see you later, there is a new tenant here that you should meet with, seeing as your Dad is at_Metric_ again."

Ichigo rolls his eyes in response, but yawns mid-roll and nods. "When is my Dad _not_ there? It will be the day that I die when I see him actually managing this place. Karin and Yuzu always do the work here, he's at _Metric_, the _rival_ Motel, and is only flirting with Ishida's Dad." He rolls his eyes again, then turns his head to look at Renji, "Heh, it doesn't matter anyway. He's doing us a service by finally leaving me alone and not bashing me up every time I wake up to get breakfast. Unlike you, throwing water at me in the morning."

Renji only laughed in response and pushes the younger teen further out the door, "So now you're getting talkative when I'm starting to push you out of here." Earlier in the morning, Ichigo had been the dullest person that, to Renji, it was like talking to a brick wall. He even splashed water on the other's face just to gain attention, and that hadn't worked. The least he was expecting was an annoyed scowl etched within his friend's features, but instead, he got a bleak stare. That, and _he_ had to clean the other up. In fact, he even checked Ichigo's pulse just to make sure that the other hadn't had some sort of silent cardiac arrest. "You're not a morning person, but try and react to things in better time."

"I have the decency not to acknowledge that you were being a bastard." Ichigo said, smugly, turning around completely to face the somewhat confused Renji.

"What did you say? I didn't go to school. You can't expect me to understand that sentence. Just call me a bastard and be done with it. Short and sweet."

"Well, at least I don't have stupid tribal tattoos all over my body!" And with that, Ichigo ran as far as he could, as fast as he could, knowing that with that comment, Renji would be hunting him down and killing him. Not that he minded the spar, but in his condition, such pointless fighting would only cause him to be the one face down on the floor. And honestly, who wanted their face imprinted on Babylon's floors? Nobody, and Ichigo did not want to be the first.

He turned his head to check if Renji was anywhere behind him. He figured that the other wouldn't be, seeing as he still had his job as an entertainer to tend too. Thankfully, Renji was not in sight, though, when he flicked his head back in a straight path, his steps starting to slow down, he collided into a broad chest. No shirt, mind you, just his face, on flesh. Ichigo bit his tongue and looked up, ignoring all thoughts of exhaustion. His lungs contracted slightly and it felt as though he couldn't breathe. Teal hair, matching teal eyes, part of a skeleton mask covering a section of the jaw, not wearing appropriate clothes. He did not know this person. A mumbled response of, "Sorry," escaped his lips and he found himself very slowly stepping away from the other person. However, after two steps away, he found that he could not move anymore, and in an instant, he was pinned to the wall where the stranger had previously been standing.

"Ah, Kurosaki Ichigo. You should watch where you're going, or you might hurt yourself." Grimmjow smirked at the teen under him. Mentally, he was rejoicing at his luck. One minute, he was staring disdainfully at Ichigo's friend. What was his name again? Abarai. Staring at him in malice. Ichigo was his newfound 'prey'. Those who were looking at him in ways of mentally undressing the red head would instantly be put into an indefinite comatose state.

"What? What are you doing?" Ichigo struggled to break free from the other's strong hold, his wrists were bound together by only one hand, and yet still, he could not escape.

"Holding you."

"I didn't ask to be held, so let go!"

Grimmjow only grinned, lowering his face so that it was only mere inches away from Ichigo's, "Ah, but it looks like you need to extra help, so let me just help you." He flicked his tongue out and slid it across Ichigo's lips, devouring the taste that was Ichigo. "Hm, your name suits you, Ichigo. You taste of strawberries."

When Ichigo felt that moist tongue against his lips, a red tint blemished his slightly tanned face. Though, his scowl only grew deeper, "I told you to let go!" If he were a lucky person, somebody would come and shove this weird guy off him, and Ichigo would be able to go on with his life without even thinking back to the whole occurrence. Unfortunately, Ichigo was not a lucky person, and instead of another person trying to save him, there was no one. He did, however, see a rat, if it was of any consolation.

"And I told you that you taste like strawberries. And, I am actually fond of them."

A position to be held for many other moments. Ichigo, ever struggling, but never actually able to gain freedom from the tight grasp. A blush smeared gracefully across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and chocolate brown eyes holding confusion. "Who the hell are you anyway?!" His head was kept bent down, hoping to hide his ever growing blush every time he felt the hot breath against his face, coming closer and closer. "I've never even met you!"

"Ah, yes. I'm pretty rude with the formal stuff. I'm Grimmjow. And, you're right. We've never met." Grimmjow grinned in cockiness, his bastard-like attitude shining through in full force, "Though, that does not exactly mean that we cannot become better acquainted." He did, however, have the decency _not_ to add "…in the bedroom."

"You're a total idiot! Get off of me! How did I even _get_ in this position?!"

"Well, you see, you were running and-"

Ichigo cut him off from his snarky remark, "Yes, I know. Just shutup and let me go."

"No."

"No?! What? Why not?!"

By now, Ichigo felt like an overused and broken cassette tape. Always asking: "What?" or "Why?" sometimes, a mix of both. He sighed in aggravation and almost kicked the other in places that should not be kicked. He almost succeeded in an escape were it not for the instant burning feeling of nails digging into skin.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Now you owe my two kisses. And not just little, stupid, girly ones. One for almost inseminating my penis, and another to get free."

Grimmjow, at this moment, thought that he was the luckiest man alive.

Ichigo, on the other hand, wanted to die there, and then.

-xv-

**Author's Note: I hope that you enjoyed it. Or something…**

**Tell me what you thought about it, and if I should continue, this is just a test-run thing. Hehe. So thank you for reading. Sorry (again) for ooc-ness. I figure that if put in different storylines, though, the characters would be slightly different anyway. But if it bugs you, sorry!! And any suggestions for pairings is good too. I'm not completely sure who to put Gin with, yet. Probably Kira, but you may think otherwise. Thank you for reading again, and (again) hope that you enjoyed!**


	2. Reminisce, Zangetsu

**Melancholy Nox: Reminisce, Zangetsu**

**Warnings: Slash. **Though, nothing potent here.

**Rating: T – **for the angst of a nine-year-old and fifteen year old Ichigo.

**Author's Notes: **This is just like, a _**back-story for Ichigo**_ and a bit for Isshin. I decided that it would alternate. As in, the main story, then a character's back-story. Just because I can, and it will probably help in developing the story, I hope at least. But it won't be for every character, just the ones that are somewhat major characters. Sorry for any mistakes! This was rushed, because I realised that I have yet to update it. Ne, sorry! If you see any mistakes do tell. Especially if they are major.

-xv-

It was raining the last time he saw her. It was raining, and he hated it. The rain was a thing created merely to wash away all sins from somebody. To be able to purify the world, in such a way that burdens and regrets could momentarily be forgotten. Wash it all away with a constant downpour of water. Though, he couldn't feel the burden being lifted, it felt heavier than anything else. So why on Earth did the Gods decide that today would be the perfect moment to allow the skies to open and bring upon such heavy rain? Why, why, why did it have to rain today?

When he saw her last, she was carrying her umbrella in one hand, his hand intertwined with her other. The cement was slippery, the path, dark. Only the moon and very few street lights there to guide them and that seemed to be impotent. It was never advised for a man or woman to walk along the streets of Vicius at such late hours. Especially when the sky was grey and threatening to spill rain, as it was now. There were always different possibilities as to what could happen on these dreary paths. One: you could be mugged. Two: you could be kidnapped if you looked completely lost, or if you looked like your pockets were going to explode from the money placed within. Three: you could be raped, regardless of whether or not you were male or female. 'Bums' on the street never cared for what they got. Though, they weren't very fond of inbreeding with other 'bums' in fear of contracting yet another sexually transmitted disease. They'd much prefer it if they give their own ailments to relatively cleaner people, thanks. Four: you could easily get run over due to the lack of street lamps guiding cars. Five: you could easily arrive to your desired location unharmed. Though, this was never particularly a favoured possibility within Vicius. In fact, it was highly disliked.

The thing was, though, he never knew of such advice. If he had, he wouldn't have begged his mother for those little treats that he was so fond of. He would want that ongoing smile still before him more than anything else.

But those stupid Gods decided oh-so conveniently that while walking through the ongoing paths, a manic 'bum' would appear in front of them. Ichigo could remember the man's face clearly. Eyes wide, though, not in a child-like manner, it showed more blood lust than anything else, hair strew in such a fashion that it looked like a bird's nest, body like a caveman, of sorts, and the glinting teeth. His eyes connected with the man's and it was in that moment did he realize that Vicius was not a name to think so lowly of. His body became a mere statue, refusing to move. And he hated the reaction; he hated it, more than the rain.

Eyes widened when the man charged towards them. The paper bag fell to the floor ungracefully, spilling its contents out on the streets in a heap. The little gum balls were falling into the gutter, floating away like the water was. His small hands urged to grab them and his mother's hand to run away. He tried to, tried, and tried. The only thing that he was able to do was yelp in pain when he felt sharp nails digging into his flesh.

His statue-like form turned into that of the foetal position when his mother pushed him to the floor to cover him with her own body, using herself as his shield. The small reassurances leaving her lips that everything was going to be all right and that after this was over, they would get his candy again and go home. He only nodded in child-like naivety, knowing that if his mother said it, then she was right. She was always right, so what made her wrong now?

These reassurances were left to linger in the air, never fulfilled.

When Ichigo opened his eyes once again, blinking slowly to clear the blurriness of temporary sleep, he regretted ever doing so. He saw nothing but black. An abyss of black nothingness that frightened him. The most rational thing to do was to scream. He emitted a shrill sound, echoing through the streets. And he continued screaming until his throat felt raw. Even then, though, he continued to scream.

He still couldn't move, he could feel a limp body on top of him, weighing him down from running. In such a panicky state, he could not think, everything jumbled up as though his mind were one of those one thousand piece puzzles left unsolved. He screamed once again, not remembering the events that passed before either passing out, or falling asleep. His continuous pleas for help stopped when his hands moved to the face of the body on top of him. "Okaa-san, daijoubu?" There was no answer. There was no movement from his mother, not even the movement of lungs being filled with the necessary resource of air. He tried again though, because, in this abyss of blindness, he needed something to hold onto, he needed his mother. "Okaa-san? Okaa-san? Daijoubu?" His voice grew with each word, hands moved frantically to shake his mother awake. But there was no reply; there was not even an uncharacteristic grunt. His attempts to wake up his mother never stopped though, not even when his voice started to become course. Not even when he started to taste his own blood.

An hour later, he could feel his body being picked up from the floor. The familiar scent of his father stopped him from punching the person. His voice was quiet, "Otou-san, what's happening?" Like his mother, only silence greeted him.

Though, rather hesitatingly, and minutes after, he was answered with a sorrow reply that made him worried. "Ichigo, your mother she's gone to…heaven."

He felt water fall to his cheeks and didn't know whether or not it was from his father, or him.

-xv-

"Ichigo-kun, just open your eyes."

Ichigo wanted to punch the doctor then and there because his eyes were open, and he was trying to look at whatever they wanted him to look at. He was doing it so why were they telling him and always repeating for him to do so? His voice was blunt and showed annoyance, "My eyes are open." The image was distorted and dark, an improvement from when he first lost his sight. One month ago, since that night. That night that could be blamed solely on him.

"Then what do you see?"

Ichigo hesitated for a moment, trying to find an answer that the doctor wanted to hear. "I can't see it completely, but I see an angry face."

"An angry face?"

"Yes, a very angry face. It looks angry at me." Ichigo nodded and moved his head to 'look' at the doctor. Though, he was not really looking at the doctor, more listening to where the doctor was than anything else. His father must be close to him, though not too close to him. Just enough so Ichigo could feel his presence.

Isshin sighed, looking at Ichigo. His son's eyes were somewhat glassy. Though, if you were to look at him, it would seem as though he wasn't blind at all. Not that he was blind, just temporarily. But, his son was still blind. A fact that Isshin could never forgive himself for. He could have protected his late wife and his son. He could have. But he did not. He could remember when he was looking for them both. It was late already, nearly eleven. The fact that it was raining heavily also worried him further. Yuzu and Karin were already sleeping soundly. By twelve, he set out to search for them. They couldn't be too far. There was always the possibility that Ichigo wanted more than the original amount that he wanted, or that they were walking slowly due to the rain. Instead, he was greeted with a shrieking Ichigo and a very disfigured wife. He wanted to look away, though, could not. The sight of his wife lying unmoving on top of his screaming son was a nightmare. Unfortunately, it was all true. His usual beautiful wife lay with both arms broken, eyes empty, and blood spilling from her forehead onto Ichigo. He needed to get away. He needed to just close his eyes and mentally slap himself to wake up from such a horrid nightmare. But he did not, because he knew that this was the harsh reality that the Gods decided would best suite him and his family. With his wife was dead, his son most likely traumatized, he called a police and ambulance knowing full well that it would take an hour or so for them to even want to get up and travel to their location. All was lost.

He brought Ichigo to his arms and carried him away from the tragedy. He needed to get as far as possible.

An exasperated sigh escaped his lips before he laughed and bringing his son into a semi-headlock in a teasing manner that would surely aggravate his son. "It's not an angry face Ichi, it's a smiling sun! Why would you think that it's an angry face?"

Instead of a remark of annoyance, he was greeted with a reply devoid of any emotion except depression. Which, in all reality was not 'right'. Children of nine were not meant to be depressed. It was illogical for a nine-year-old child to have so many burdens put upon their shoulders.

"Because Okaa-san would be angry at me."

As soon as he heard those words, Isshin regretted ever asking. He released his son from the loose headlock and examined him, ignoring the doctor for the time being. "Ichigo, you do know that your mother protected you because she wanted to."

Ichigo wanted to believe those words, but could never bring himself to. He only nodded and turned to face where he presumed the doctor was. "I'll be able to see again, right?"

In all honesty, he didn't care on whether or not he could see again or not. If this were a form of atonement that had been put upon him, then he'd live with it. He'd live with it and atone for the death of his mother. Regardless of what his father said, it was his fault. It was because he was so immature that she died.

He needed to grow up.

-xv-

When the rain falls, his eyes feel glassy. It is when the rain falls does he remember that event of years ago. It is because of that event. It is the blood, screams, and those eyes that frighten him from exiting Babylon's somewhat safe walls. On rainy days such as now, he's never in a good mood. Never in a mood to put up with his father who is rarely ever supervising Babylon, (the sanctuary that he supposedly created in honour of his mother), always at _Metric_ to visit Ishida's father. He hates it when his father goes there, because his father has moved on, and he has yet too. Call it jealousy, if you want. He still lives in the regret of his nine year old self. It is on days like these does he uncharacteristically think to himself. Thinking, always, that the reason why Yuzu was so mother-like was because of him. If his mother were alive, Yuzu would not be serving them breakfast, lunch and dinner. Then, he'd think that the sorrow within Karin's eyes was because of him. It was his entire fault. So why was his father always saying that he was living in the past? Why was it that he would say that his mother never needed to forgive him because it was _not_ his fault? It was blatantly his fault. If he did not drag his mother out of the safety of their home, she would be alive to this very day, asking him if he wanted to go to the park, or something.

Regardless, during these days, Ichigo is never in a good mood. Even though he regained his eyesight months after his mother's death, the time of blindness that he went through never felt like it was enough to compensate.

His thinking paused momentarily when he heard a very familiar voice.

"I thought I'd find you here."

"What do you want, Ishida?"

"You're never good to stay with on these days, you know that, right?"

"Go away and let me sulk in my own self pity."

Ishida ignored him, only sitting down and making himself comfortable next to Ichigo. They stayed in a comfortable silence before Ichigo moved his head to lean against Ishida's shoulder. "Thanks for being here even though I must be a pain." Usually, he would never show such affections. Never, really. But on days like these where he would watch the rain droplets fall, washing everything clean, he felt too weak and drawn to do anything else but submit to any comfort he could gain.

"It's all right."

When his mother died, he was nine and hated the rain. He's now fifteen, and he still hates the rain.

-xv-

**Author's Note: **Hope that you enjoyed! I'll try and update this at least once a week, though that is subject to change due to the fact that I am lazy and have heaps of homework. And sorry for the superemo!Ichigo. The ooc-ness of this chapter must kill! Sorry, again! Next chapter shall have more GrimmIchi just to make up for this. And, probably the introduction of Byakuya. Reviews are always appreciated. Sorry if I didn't get to reply to some reviews though! I forgot which ones I did, and which ones I didn't. I'm stupid like that. But thank you if I wasn't able to reply! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

**Thank you for reading! And hope that you enjoyed! Ja ja ja!**


	3. Idiocy

**Melancholy Nox: Idiocy**

**Warnings: Slash.**

**Rating: T **for Tetanus Shot. (there's no tetanus shot)

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for being so late! I was planning to have it up by last week, I was delayed heaps. I couldn't get myself to write this up, and when I did it turned out in a weird view. It's written really awkwardly (to me). Probably the worst chapter. Ahh, sorry!! I shall try to do better next time. If you see any grammatical or spelling mistakes, please point them out to me!

-xv-

12:45 and they're sitting in the lobby waiting for some sort of welcoming committee to sing a little song with an accompanying little dance to entertain them from this boredom. A boredom which cannot be cured as of yet due to their inability to do anything. Those two little girls told them to sit, and she wants to just ignore them and wander through the halls of this place, but he stops her. Something about obedience, which is stupid, but she won't tell him that, for surely, he would kick her out of this place from the highest level and leave her to die in a broken heap. Though, he'd only do so when those two little girls tell them that they can move from their seats.

"Ah, sorry for the wait, we were just trying to get one of the staff to help you with your luggage. We would have helped you ourselves, but…" The blonde little one smiled sheepishly, drifting off, only to be finished off by the other little girl rather bluntly. "You have way too much stuff."

"Does it trouble you?" A smooth, collected voice questioned the little girls. In all honesty, he did not care if it was 'too much'. Though, the more polite side of him prodded him to ask anyway, "If it does, my sister and I will carry them up ourselves." Though, he knew that his sister would probably carry the majority of it. Not that he would insist or order her to do so. Actually, she would insist for herself to do such a troublesome duty.

"Nah, it's alright. It's easy for us to boss one of the others around anyway."

"Good." He can't really say much else because the little girl with a tag saying: 'Karin' is much too brash for his liking. So he only says one word, because really, he does not want to waste more than this when talking to people who were much too…rude? He could say that, but she looked tired too. Maybe she also appreciates the fact that he doesn't say anything more.

"Hey Karin, Yuzu. Sorry 'bout the lateness. Just trying to find Ichi-" A small sheepish laugh, a surprised face and then a grin later, Renji eyed the newcomers, though, more specifically, the smaller of the two. The girl with black hair, round dark eyes, and pale skin stared back at him, a small smile creeping up her features.

"Hi Renji." Her small, frail hand moved to greet the red head. There were many sights that she'd seen through her life. Tribal tattoos and red hair being amongst these sights. So, when she saw her old friend, it was nothing new. Surprising to see, of course, though, still not to the point where her mouth would resemble that of a fish's, or similar to Renji's expression now.

After much mouth gaping and pointing, Renji was able to finally speak words of coherence. He neared her slowly, and through the corner of his eye, he could see that the other guy next to Rukia was sending a glare screaming death his way. Regardless he smothered the girl in an embrace that lifted her from the floor and in the most simplest of ways (for him) greeted her with an obnoxiously loud, "Long time, Rukia."

And it truly had been a 'long time' something like a decade of any contact with each other respectively. For him, he might have seen a glimpse of her in a newspaper or something. Though, that was a rare sight in itself. But, for her, he seemed to be pushed to the corner of her mind where everything in her past stayed. And it was supposed to stay there. All those memories of childhood where they had to scurry for shelter or steal some food from that old stall that the old man took care of. Though, like any memory, those years came back eventually. Evidently, hers came back when she came back here.

"Yeah, it has been a long time." She was not sad, maybe a bit guilty for leaving Renji behind. Well, not just 'a bit'. But it was enough for her to have to force a smile back to Renji, who now let go of her from his death grip and was grinning towards her now. His grin did not falter, it remained to be full of, well, she did not know. She couldn't read such things as expressions upon other's faces. That was her brother's job. Because, although he remained like a statue, he could read people like an open book. And it made her wonder sometimes, it was making her wonder now. It was like some sort of distraction, an excuse to keep her mind on something else instead of this awkwardness of having to look up to this tribal tattooed freak that she called a friend.

Renji only smiled and shrugged, "Yeah, who cares about that stuff."

And she knows that when he says this, it actually means: "Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it. I'm all right, see? Don't apologize for something you didn't do." And only she can understand this. Not her brother, because it's like some form of secret language that was made when they were younger and only they can understand. So she leaves it, and only nods in return. It's then when she thinks that it's 'all right'.

"Renji. What are you standing there like a dope for? Go find Ichigo and tell him to help you out. I doubt that you'd be able to carry all that stuff by yourself."

Renji looks at the ten or so bags piled upon the other and laughs, "How did you carry those here in the first place?"

But he doesn't get an answer because he just runs off in another direction to search for Ichigo once again.

12:55, and Rukia is left standing to look in the direction that Renji bolted off towards before she laughs slightly herself when her brother asks, "Is _that_ your friend?"

"Don't worry brother, he's only a friend." She has enough decency not to add, "You can have him, if you like."

He sneers. But she only laughs, because she knows that Renji's already made a bad impression.

-xv-

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Nothing really, but if you really wanted to know, I did have a cold last week. But don't worry; it's gone now, so when you do kiss me you won't get sick."

"I don't care." A harsh shove to the larger of the two in hope of being able to finally be set free from the weight set upon him. Of course, it only falters and his arms are gripped tighter and now he knows that he'll have marks on them tomorrow. "Get off of me. I'm not going to kiss you, so just get off. Find some other person to molest."

"You really do need to get your ears checked, don't you Strawberry?" A long finger slides its way to Ichigo's chin, forcing it up so that the teen looks at him, "I like strawberries, and you're much too pretty to let loose." Those chocolate brown eyes holding anger and frustration don't relent though. They remain to merely glare at him in hope that if enough glaring ensues, Grimmjow will just drop to the floor and lie there unmoving. But, this is Grimmjow we're talking about, so he only smirks in response and licks Ichigo's lips again, earning yet another wonderful blush.

Ichigo turns his head to the side to hide his blush and to also seek out for some sort of help, not including that rat he saw before. "Let go of me will ya? I mean, you've done that twice already, and those are kisses."

"No they aren't. Me licking your lips is like a lip balm to keep them moisturized for when we do kiss."

He hates it. He hates having to be the damsel in distress because boys were not meant to be the damsels in distress. They were meant to be the people that saved the damsels in distress. So, he was not one. He was just some knight stuck in a dilemma of being pinned between a wall and another man. Which, to be blunt, sucks. Surely, if put into any other situation, he'd be able to defend himself quite easily, but when put into this one where the man laughs or smirks every time he blushes, it's not as easy. The grip upon his arms remain firm, even when one hand is occupied with examining his face and touching him. That, and that stupid smirk that he wants to wipe off only grows by the moment. And he hates it. And within these past few moments of meeting this 'Grimmjow' he already knows that he hates this man also.

"Shutup."

He'd love to say that this man is all talk, but he's not. It's due to the closeness of their faces now. This guy, who is now coming alarmingly close, to the point that Ichigo bumps his head against the wall. This results in him having to bump his head against the wall. But he doesn't care, because the guy is making no move to stop and he does not like the idea of being forced to kiss some guy he just met, let alone any guy.

"Ichi-" There's a pause from tribal tattoo freak, and then a stare. But the strawberry takes no notice on the newcomer. He's still busy trying to get rid of this teal-haired nuisance. "-go?" There's still no response from the strawberry and the pervert, so Renji tries once again, only louder, and less surprised than before. "ICHIGO!"

This catches Ichigo's attention, though; it does not stop Grimmjow from his ministrations. The teal-haired man simply stands and tries to force himself upon the other.

"R-Renji!" And it sounds as though Ichigo is desperate, because his tone is strained and his eyes plead to the red head to get this fucking freak off of him. "Help? Please?"

Although Ichigo is talking now, Grimmjow takes no heed and ignores that other stupid red head who's trying to ruin this whole fucking moment. And he wants to bash that tribal tattooed freak's head into the wall and kick him repeatedly. "Oy, Ichigo."

This gains the attention of said boy, "Wha-"

Their lips are mere inches away. Grimmjow can feel Ichigo's breath against his skin. The other isn't moving, mainly because he can't. Ichigo's arms are immobile and his legs are tangled between Grimmjow's. His head, it's frozen, and his mind is saying something along the lines of: "Fuck, what do I do? He's so close, I can't move. Renji, you dimwit! Help out." He wants to actually say it, but his lips aren't moving, and his eyes are merely staring at those other lips: rough, cracked, dry.

"Tsk tsk. Ichigo, you shouldn't get so excited like that." And Grimmjow pulls away, his smirk still evident upon his face. It is then when he laughs slightly and allows Ichigo's arms free from his grasp. They fall to his sides numbly, and the weight upon the strawberry is gone in a mere instant.

Renji's on the sidelines like always and Ichigo's left to stand there and stare towards the direction of Grimmjow.

He feels stupid.

-xv-

To leave one's target stupefied was not entirely needed; in fact, it was not needed at all. Grimmjow was just a nut case that loved to bring his targets to such a point where they were put on a silver platter to await some sort of movement from him. Some sort of movement: a kiss, a grope, something. And when he came close to this movement, he'd pull away. He'd pull away because he knew that they would remain like a dope for the remainder of the day, or even week. They'd simply stare in his direction, wondering: "What the fuck just happened?" But he'd simply walk away, and when he saw them again, he'd repeat these actions once again: pin to the closest surface, mock them, then get so close to them but pull away when they were expecting 'it'.

People called it sadism, because it was. This whole 'thing' could be called a game of 'cat and mouse', because it was.

This was Grimmjow, and this was how his mind worked.

A part of him regretted pulling away from Ichigo. The mere scent of the other intoxicated him. Every other little part of Ichigo, (to be like the little cliché pervert that he was), drove him to near insanity. He wanted to burn the sight of that blushing face into his mind, wanted to touch every part of the boy's body, taste the sweetness that was Ichigo; he wanted to engrave every little detail of the boy into his memory. That orange hair, those chocolate brown eyes, that surprisingly soft skin and even that scowl; because, 'that scowl' was what made Ichigo, Ichigo. And Ichigo with no scowl was an imposter. Although he'd only seen the boy for maybe twelve hours maximum, he knew that the scowl plastered onto that face was not there only temporarily. It was there because it was a little 'quirk', (if you like), that Ichigo had acquired.

It was not love. It was nowhere near love. It was an obsession, pure, obsession. Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe it could be seen as frightening to a point where it would be possible for Ichigo to get a restraining order against him. Not that such an order would stop Grimmjow. Once a man such as he finds an obsession such as this, an 'order' does nothing to stop his path; because, even if he gets shot in the leg, or he's trampled down by a bunch of police, he'll still carry on. It's the memory of that boy pinned to a wall, their lips bare inches away, and that blush that keeps him from wanting to repeat such actions again and again, and again.

And it's crazy, he knows.

The whole, tribal tattooed guy walking into their little 'moment' did not do anything to perturb Grimmjow. In fact, it was nice to have a little audience for a change. Though, when his eyes met with those auburn ones, he could see a tinge of jealousy. A jealousy that screamed out in a rage of furry that did not frighten him. Though, it did not excite him either. A man jealous of another was a man who was out to kill. Enough said. That tribal tattooed guy must have been in love or something with Ichigo because when Grimmjow turned back, he saw the other all over his strawberry. But, Grimmjow was not jealous. No, he simply wanted to kill the other. The same could be said when Renji saw Grimmjow. But the teal-haired pervert did not care. It could be a death match with the prize being Ichigo, and he'd make sure he'd win.

He loved the scowl, orange hair and brown eyes. However, he was not in love with Ichigo.

Grimmjow and love - they never mixed.

-xv-

By the time Renji can actually move his mouth, he can see that he's already put Ichigo in a position that is familiar to the boy. Ichigo is firmly pressed against the wall (under Renji's weight), his hands are left by his sides, and his eyes wandering in the direction of that teal haired asshole. Renji doesn't say anything of significance, just a small, "Are you okay?" Of course, in Ichigo's state, he doesn't get an answer. Renji doesn't care though, because the proximity of their bodies is enough, it's 'good enough'.

Really, though, he can't understand this. It's 'mind boggling', whatever people called it. He wasn't the high school grad, he was just a guy that worked with and for his best friend who he was also somewhat attracted too. So, the whole situation in which Ichigo was pinned to a wall by some retarded dimwit left Renji to look at the orange head questioningly. Obviously something had happened because Ichigo was left just standing there to think. And Ichigo thinking was a rare thing.

Renji himself, can't help but feel envious of that teal haired asshole. Never had he been able to gain such 'movement' from Ichigo. Never had he seen a blush of that kind blemish Ichigo's face. Never had he been so close to Ichigo's lips as Grimmjow had been. But he was jealous of an ass.

"Ichigo!" But the scream into the other's ear does nothing. It only makes Ichigo turn his face away from Renji's to think some more. He's not 'really' thinking though. There's nothing going through his mind at this particular moment. There's just a mind numbing confusion that leaves him to look like a complete dope. Renji's no better. He's looking down at Ichigo, trying to read those eyes to see if he can just catch a glimpse as to what Ichigo's thinking. He sees nothing but confusion. Thus, leaving him confused. It brings them to a stand still. Ichigo's pinned to an oh-so familiar wall, completely blank, and Renji's looking at Ichigo, completely blank.

They're stupid, moronic, all synonyms for both words.

Ichigo can't come to terms with this feeling of nausea from that sickening smell of tobacco and cheap cologne. Though, he can't help but want to breathe it into every crevice of his body. Maybe it's some sort of Stockholm Syndrome and that teal haired bastard's gotten him. He hates it. Just like being the damsel in distress, he hates it. It leaves him to finally shove Renji off of him. The weight above him reminds him too much of the events previously, and he wants to get away from it. That wall, though, it seems like it's yelling to him: "See ya later Ichi!" And he cringes at the thought of having his backside meet the wall again with that familiar weight and scent of Grimmjow to hover above him.

Because he hates this feeling of: nausea, want, and need.

Wait, no, it's not what he 'wants' or 'needs'. His brain's just malfunctioning at the moment.

-xv-

"Frigging Ichigo…running off…not helping…what an-"

"Are you all right Renji?"

"Yeah, of course."

At times of dire need, you must lie. Renji was in a time of dire need. His back was aching from the amounts of luggage these guys had, his brain was still blank on the whole 'Ichigo and teal haired asshole situation', he was tired, physically and mentally, he was thirsty, his back was aching, his arms were sore, his back was aching, oh, and his back was aching. Honestly, he felt like a withering old man with arthritis, or whatever that disease of the bones were. To look as civilized as he could possibly look, his back hunched, arms towed with amounts of little bags and his forehead creased in slight frustration, he lied through his teeth.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's not that hard for-"

"He said that he is fine Rukia."

Renji looked towards that other guy who he had yet to be introduced to and shot an annoyed stare before looking back to Rukia and forcing a small smile, "Uh, yeah. I'm fine." He leaned in closer to Rukia, whispering, though, when Renji whispered, it really could not be called such an action. His whispers could still be heard from across a hallway. "Rukia, who is that guy? I mean, is he like your cousin or something? A body guard? Your father?!"

The ending was blurted out, catching the attention of Rukia's 'cousin/something/body guard/father. Rukia's cousin/something/body guard/father stared at Renji. Though, the stare remained ever stoic and never breaking, hardly amused at Renji's still perplexed expression. "I am her brother. Kuchiki Byakuya."

The red head's expression turned from perplexed to one of realization. He saved himself from embarrassment by not blurting out a thought within his mind the whole time: 'Oh, so that's why you look alike.' The statue-man, or, Byakuya, would probably shrug him off and never want contact with him again. That, and he'd most likely tell Rukia to keep away from him also.

Not a good first impression.

"Yeah, so Byakuya, why'd you take Rukia away?"

Rukia feels like burying herself to an early grave. Byakuya only stares at Renji and piles the bag that he (Byakuya) was carrying onto Renji's ever growing pile. Renji's back aches.

It certainly was not a good first impression.

-xv-

**Author's note: **Sorry again guys, it's pretty bad. Haha, I still hoped you enjoyed though! I'll try to make it better next chapter, though, next chapter's going to be the backstory for one of the characters. I don't really know what happened to my writing style, it just withered away. But if you do like this writing style, do tell me. And if there's room for improvement, (which there probably is), tell me also. It helps, heaps. You know what else helps out (excuse me for my cliché ways) Reviewwwwssss. Sorry for the lateness (again).

**Hehe, thank you for reading!! Hope you enjoyed**

Jajaja!


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